


Something New

by Onehelluvapilot



Series: Gyroscope [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Carl is a good dad, Connor is a good bro, F/M, Father Figures, Gen, Identity, Injury, Insecurity, Major Character Injury, temporary disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 22:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15253206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot
Summary: Markus struggles to figure out who he's meant to be after a terrorist attack leaves him unable to lead.





	Something New

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I can't write emotional angst without a physical trigger, so here's another injury leading to existential crisis fic for y'all.

Markus didn't know what to do with himself except stare out at the view. The wreck of Jericho wasn't visible from this little apartment off of the Ferndale train stop, but he knew it was there. That was comforting, even if he couldn't make the route to it at this time. His ruined hand and barely compatible replacement leg wouldn't hold up to it.  Even as the leader of the android revolution, he was having the same problem as Connor with finding repairs after the bomb that had been thrown at the podium where he'd been giving a speech had blown away much of the left side of his body. The most debilitating thing was that instead of just getting a ringing in his ears, his audio receptor had been blown to bits inside his head. He was unable to help with negotiations, as being unable to hear himself, he accidentally shouted every word he said. Communication with androids wasn't impeded, as they could talk wirelessly inside each other's heads, but he couldn't talk at all with humans. Without his left hand, he couldn't even sign properly.

Markus was surprised when Connor burst into the apartment, as he hadn’t been able to hear him bounding up the stairs. There was a wide smile on his face, and he said something that the other android couldn't understand. He smiled back tentatively all the same, glad that the negotiator seemed to finally be in a good mood. He'd gotten his gyroscope fixed the day Markus had been injured, and gone immediately to work after the attack.

_Oh, sorry!_ Connor apologized when he remembered his friend's disability, beginning to speak wirelessly instead of aloud. _We found him! Hank and I caught the terrorist! Jeremy Renard. He didn't really have much of a reason to hate androids; just said that he found us ‘creepy’. Let me tell you, he did not like this._ The detective tapped on the patch that remained on the side of his head with a smile. He'd gotten used to it over the past month, and even joked about it now. _The best part is, he led Hank and I back to the android hate group of which he was a member. We were able to charge him with assault and attempted murder, three of his friends with aiding and abetting, five with conspiracy, and another seventeen with various hate crimes!_ Despite how he wasn't talking aloud, Markus could hear the elation in his voice. He couldn't seem to muster up the same optimism himself. 

_ That's great Connor, _ he said. And it was. Twenty six violent bigots off the street was great. The problem was that there were thousands more in Detroit alone. He didn't see how they could make a difference, especially as Connor was still the only android detective, and fewer cops were protecting his people than  committing violence against them or standing by while it was done. There was a silent pause, and he watched as Connor’s face fell. He wished he could take it back, fake a bit more enthusiasm because that smile was so rare and he hated to be the cause of its departure.

_ Is something wrong, Markus? _ his friend inquired gently.

_ No. Yes. I don't know. _

_ Would you like to talk about it? _ It was funny. Now that they (Markus, North, Josh, and Connor’s partner Hank) had gotten the android to start talking to them about what he was feeling, he treated verbal communication like a cure-all.

_ I can't, _ Markus pointed out.  _ That's a big part of the problem. I'm supposed to be giving a speech today, and I can't, because I can't hear myself talk. _

_ Would you really be ready to give a speech today?  _ Connor asked sensibly. It hadn't gone unnoticed to him that Markus’s shoulders sagged and his jaw was tense. His right arm still looked like a mangled piece of plastic where it had yet to be repaired. Even with Josh doing his best through the interface, the pain had been too great and Markus had to make the technicians stop repairing the nerves where his arm had been half blown away. He had yet to make new plans for getting it repaired.

_ No, you're right, I wouldn't be,  _ the exhausted Jericho leader agreed.  _ But I could be doing  _ something.  _ Something to help. I feel so useless. _

_ Markus, you've given everything to this revolution. You told me that I deserved a rest, and you're a whole lot more deserving than me. So let yourself take this break. Why don't you come for a drive with me? Hank's car has tinted windows, so no one will recognize you if you don't want to be seen. I imagine you must feel cooped up in this apartment, even with its view. _

_ That does sound nice,  _ Markus agreed. At the very least it would give him a chance to assess the city and determine which areas needed to have more resources allocated to them.

Connor waited politely as Markus took a long time with the stairs. The replacement left leg he'd gotten was slightly shorter than the right, which made walking somewhat awkward. The younger prototype also opened the door to the car, which he had pulled up right in front of the door to the apartment building without fear of a parking ticket, as the handle would have been tricky for the older android.

It wasn't long until Markus recognized where Connor was taking him. He wasn't surprised when the car stopped beside Carl's house, though he was a little confused.

_ Why did you bring me here? I can't talk to him anyway,  _ Markus pointed out.

_ I have a plan for that _ , Connor assured him. He gestured up to the house, telling its former occupant to lead the way. The security still recognized him, and let his friend in behind him.

_ He's in his studio, _ the nurse android told them after greeting them at the door. Markus wasn't surprised that he had stayed on; Carl seemed like about the best employer an android could hope to get these days.

_ Thank you, _ he replied, and it was for more than the information.

As he led the way through the house, Connor offered a bare hand out to him. A little wary after what had happened last time they interfaced, he took it carefully. There was no rush of sudden emotion or memories; just noise. Josh must've been training him to control it, as he seemed that he'd somehow cordoned off only the part of his circuits that dealt with incoming audio information. Markus could hear through Connor’s ears. He heard soft music coming from the studio, the soundtrack of an old videogame Carl had enjoyed when he was younger. He listened to it while he painted landscapes now.

Markus heard the swish of the door opening, and stepped into the studio. It was bright and warm, unlike when he had last been there. Carl seemed to be putting the finishing touches on a long canvas near the ground, depicting Markus at the head of the November 11 protest.

“I thought you didn't like art that just copied real life,” the android said. He could hear himself through Connor’s ears to regulate his tone and volume.

“I thought it was a moment worth documenting,” the old man replied, spinning his wheelchair around. Markus broke away from Connor to go hug the elderly human. He knelt on the concrete floor, and carefully didn't touch the man’s delicate skin with the rough edges of his damaged arm.

_ I'm so glad you're alright,  _ Connor said to him wirelessly, passing on what Carl said that he couldn't hear.  _ When I saw on the news about the bomb… _

“I'm alright,” he assured the man, but felt as he winced back, pulling away from the hug.

_ Too loud,  _ Connor told him, confirming his guess that he'd shouted accidentally. He stepped back to interface with the other android to prevent it from happening again.

“I'm sorry,” he said at a more normal volume. “I didn't mean to shout. My audio receptor was damaged by the blast.”

“It's alright son,” Carl said. At that word, a little of the barrier between Connor’s mind and his broke down and he saw memories of Hank in the gaps. Despite himself, a little smile tugged up the corners of Markus's mouth. 

“How are you doing, Carl?” the android asked his own father figure.

“Oh, you know. Better than I might've been doing, so that's nice. I've been plagued by journalists after they figured out where you came from. Ryder has been keeping them away.” The nurse android, Markus guessed.

“How's Leo?” he asked this carefully, deliberately.

“In rehab in Shelby Hills,” Carl replied.

“That's good.”

“Yeah. I'm less than optimistic about it sticking, but at least it gets him out of the city during all this craziness.”

Markus set his jaw at the new reminder that he needed to be doing more to keep Detroit peaceful during this transitional period. Though he didn't know exactly what he could do.

“You still have your piano,” he commented dully, not sure what else to say.

“Go ahead and play it if you want,” Carl replied. “It would be nice to have some new music while I paint, instead of this old crap.”

Connor quickly interfaced with the house system to shut off the recorded music playing while he went with Markus back to the living room. He switched the interface to the other android’s damaged left hand, which barely had enough functioning nerve receptors to connect and which he wouldn't be able to play with anyway.

“Markus?” came a soft call from the other room. “Play something new.”

By new, Carl meant never been played before anywhere, not just to him. He was asking Markus to compose. With one hand and hearing himself through someone else's ears.

He started out tentatively, with just scales and a flourish every once in awhile, but, like his revolution, quickly picked up momentum. He borrowed bits and pieces from famous works programmed into him, but built on them and changed them into something very… him. Identity, like the painting.

His internal clock, much more consistent than a human's, told him an hour had passed since he started playing. He let the music fade out and then just sat there for a minute or two.

“That was beautiful,” Carl said from the other room. Connor had a look of confusion on his face, but his thoughts were impossible to read through the barrier he'd put up in the interface. “Come take a look at this; tell me what you think.”

Markus stood up, his auditory translator android trailing behind. Inside, there was a painting of the android himself, his torso and head. His hands were open. His thirium pump was painted purple in the outside of his chest. Parts of his body were distorted into many things. In the crook of his neck there was a piano. One of his ears was a ship. And there was a lot of blank space and unfilled parts.

“Room for you to fill,” Carl explained without needing to be asked. Markus had never cried in his life, but he felt the need to blink back tears as he lifted the canvas with one hand. Connor offered to help him carry it, through the interface a suggestion of assistance, but the injured android refused. Something for him to do himself, for himself.

“Your favorite paint store downtown closed,” Markus said, once again lacking the proper words to convey his emotions, even though he had his voice back.

“You'll find a new one,” Carl replied. He coughed then, a beast of a cough that rattled through his frame. “Sorry, my boy, but I think I need to rest soon. Come by to visit again, if you're not too busy?”

“My schedule is quite free at the moment,”

Markus agreed. “Of course. I'll see you soon.”

He was not a man for goodbyes, as they seemed like the end of something, and so far in his young life, it seemed like there were only beginnings. He let himself out, and Connor gave him a ride back to his apartment before the detective had to leave on police business.

North was home. She didn't say anything, just kissed him softly on the temple where his LED used to be and led him to bed after placing the painting on a new easel by the window.

**Author's Note:**

> Love comments. The more specific you can be about what you liked or didn't like the better.
> 
> I think I'm up for one or two more fics, focusing on Josh, North, and maybe Kara and family, but it will probably take me awhile to post them. I've been trying to carve out more time to work on my own stories.


End file.
